The Isis Poetry Competition HT21 Shortlist
may-day it is long past time for coffee the girls play in the garden and freeze when they touch each-other what life is there left for those of us who wait and wait for the dust to settle what humour is there in prophecy […]
The Isis Poetry Competition HT21 Shortlist
Dad brought me fishing took hold of a herring broken on stones we passed no one but a boat one hundred metres off a cuttlefish swam spectre-like You know what they eat the sea he said fascinated I fell in the vision I was blue scarlet Dad carried me on his father’s back I remember […]
The Isis Poetry Competition HT21 Shortlist
We’re at the rock pools again. You’re bothering anemones putting your hand to your mouth to taste the salt Like licking the shiny side of a crisp packet We talk about the old sea The sea from before and how it used to keep its distance I have never [
Ditch Lilies
All across the yard, false peach. Elm trees spitting shadow on their heads. Like an ocean, he says, thumbing the brim of his cap, like lilies. The golden in them. We’re far away from ourselves, her ashes dusted in a field, your voice still scattering my dreams. The pastor bles
Eggs and tea
(For Jessica) I’ve been trying to eat fewer eggs lately on the head of your soi at the kai jeow stall we’d stand in flip-flops hands crumpling green notes and watch eggs swirl into omelettes in a smoking black wok and a savoury steam would slip like a whisper into your elevator,
Plum jam / West Coast Oranges
I’ve been thinking about getting old. Not considering getting old: that would be a luxury quite beyond me. I am growing up; Mother has grown a plum tree in the garden. This year we had too many fruits, the last almost none at all. Lingering on each, Brother and I pick [
out of sync
maybe we’ll come together again in the neighbourhood coffee shop that stands at the edge of feeling and maybe we’ll know what we want – the smells of fried bread, cooking oil, and overripe fruit blending into each other as my eye
Summertown
edgeways winter white-mouthed streetlamps waver the keys in my pocket like anxieties rattle their skins against each other a smattering of fireworks clinking against
An Hour After the Phone Call
the woman with a cigarette curses upwards death takes too long she says she grows inside out to house her flaws laughs again despite the walls she laughs despite the persistence she laughs her raspy voice passes through me and flows into another ear ca